Something Unexpected
by the misanthropic lycanthrope
Summary: Lewis finds himself having an unexpected, and slightly awkward, conversation.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This just...happened. The fluff just tends to build up when I'm bored, and it needed an outlet! Will there be more? I honestly don't know. Yet.**  
**Drifty**

* * *

Something Unexpected

Heaving a sigh, Lewis threw the file he had been reading down onto the collection of almost identical folders carpeting the top of his desk. "Right, I need a break. Lunch?"

Hathaway's gaze lifted from his own, decidedly tidier pile of files and papers, and he gave Lewis a nod of eager agreement. "Please."

Lewis knew his sergeant would have continued his study of the files had Lewis asked it of him, diligently absorbing the information they contained into that Cambridge-educated brain of his. The suggestion of the break had been made as much for his benefit as Lewis' own.

Straightening the file he had been pouring over back onto its neat stack, Hathaway rose with no further hesitation, snagging his jacket from the back of his chair with one finger as Lewis ushered him out of the door.

After a brief stop to purchase some sandwiches, the two men settled onto a bench to eat. The air was crisp, but the golden spring sunlight chased off the threat of any chill; it made a welcome change to the enclosed confines of the office. It was at times like these that Lewis felt most content, sat shoulder to shoulder with his sergeant in companionable silence, surrounded by the majestic beauty of Oxford.

Hearing the click of a lighter, Lewis looked across at Hathaway, not at all surprised to find him lighting a cigarette. He might not agree with the lad's habit, but he found himself almost hypnotized by Hathaway's easy, languid movements; they summoned to his mind the image of a satisfied, relaxed cat.

Lewis turned away, looking instead at the gently rustling trees and quiet street. A student cycled past. Being away from the desk, out in the fresh air, was a good way to let the information from the reports they had been trolling through settle and sink in, although Lewis was certain that the cogs in James' mind never stopped whirring.

There he goes again. It seemed like, whatever direction they were headed in, his thoughts always returned to his sergeant. And he hadn't allowed himself to consider what that might mean.

"Right," Lewis said, slapping his palms to his thighs, more as a distraction for himself than anything else. "We should head back, before Innocent notices we're missing." He made to rise but felt a pressure on his arm, holding him back. Sitting back down, he looked a question at Hathaway as the sergeant withdrew his hand.

"A few more minutes?" Hathaway asked. His grey eyes were expressionless, but the slight wistful note in his tone made Lewis nod automatically; he couldn't deny his sergeant his request, however much of a rollicking they might receive from Innocent.

Lewis only realized he was still looking at Hathaway when James stated, "You're staring, sir." _Bloody hell_, now he wasn't even aware he was doing it. He shifted awkwardly, seeking something else to look at. _Anything_ else. He opted for a litter bin a short way along the street.

There had always been the rumours, knocking around the station, concerning Hathaway's sexuality, but the sly sod had never given anyone a straight answer whenever the question had been posed, appearing to take some kind of perverse pleasure in sustaining the Hathaway Mystery. Lewis had never before cared about the answer, beyond natural curiosity; that sort of thing didn't bother him. It wasn't something that would affect James' ability to do the job. Recently, however, he had caught himself wondering about it on more than one occasion.

"You can ask if you like, sir."

Startled, Lewis glanced back to Hathaway, but the man's expression remained unreadable.

"Ask what?" Lewis tried, and failed, to sound casually confused.

"What it is that's been bugging you so thoroughly recently."

_The man's a bloody mind reader!_ Thrown, Lewis stayed silent for a moment to regain his composure. Hathaway hadn't exactly promised to answer the question, if that was even the question he assumed Lewis wanted to ask, but this was the least evasive Lewis had ever seen him.

"Have you ever been attracted to men?"

An eyebrow arched at that. Years of experience of questioning suspects and witnesses had taught Lewis that taking a slightly different approach could often yield results.

Regardless of his tactics, Lewis didn't think they had any chance of obtaining results. Hathaway's expression remained as infuriatingly closed and neutral as always. Lewis had to look away again, beginning to feel a fool for falling into the trap.

"Yes."

Lewis' stomach gave a flip, but he was momentarily stunned by the simple, straightforward, truthful response to think about what that meant. He guessed that perhaps Hathaway had merely appreciated a question that didn't require him to affix any sort of label to himself.

He realized he had been silent too long when he felt Hathaway's gaze on him, then made the mistake of meeting that stare. Those bright, intelligent eyes seemed to pierce right through him, into his soul, and yet he couldn't look away.

"Are you going to ask your other question?" Hathaway enquired. He could have been asking the time, or any number of other inconsequential queries, his tone was so innocent and matter-of-fact. But Lewis found himself unable to speak. His mouth had gone dry and his heart was pounding in his ears. He tried to swallow. "I don't think I can."

For once in his life, he was too much of a coward to ask; afraid of the answer he would receive. But which response was he most afraid of? Acceptance or rejection? Or did he just not want to voice his own feelings, admit to what it was that had been preoccupying his mind so much recently, force himself to face them.

He didn't get the luxury of some time to think it all through, however, because Hathaway was up to his maddening mind-reading trick again.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, sir. I don't bite." Deadpan. "Not too hard, anyway."

Lewis' jaw must have dropped then because a smirk tugged at the corner of James' mouth. The deep rumble of the sergeant's voice shot straight to his gut. The bastard was doing it on purpose. That he had already worked it out shouldn't have been surprising; the man was a brilliant detective, after all.

Recovering his senses a little, Lewis huffed a laugh that was more a groan than anything else. "I can't…This is…" He was having trouble articulating the jumble of words and thoughts that suddenly crowded in his mind.

"This is…What, sir?"

Hathaway sounded curious as to how Lewis' aborted sentence would have ended, and Lewis wondered whether it was just idle interest or if there was something deeper there, prompting him to encourage Lewis to complete his thought.

Scrubbing a hand hard over his face, Lewis shook his head. "This is crazy. I'm being a fool. I mean, look at us, man."

Feigning, or possibly not, confusion, Hathaway made a show of casting an objective gaze over the two of them. "What am I supposed to be seeing?" he asked.

"I'm a grouchy old bugger, nearing retirement, for God's sake, and you're…"

"A brooding, know-it-all, awkward sod?"

"That's not what I was going to say," Lewis protested.

"I know, but it's true. And it doesn't matter."

Lewis frowned, trying to ascertain if James was saying what he thought the lad was saying, and whether or not he should just nip it in the bud right now, before either of them said something they would undoubtedly regret.

Hathaway smiled fondly at his inspector's discomfort and when he spoke his voice was soft. "We fit," he said simply with a small shrug, as if that was all the reason they needed.

"You make us sound like pieces of a bloody jigsaw."

"Perhaps that's all we are, in the grand scheme of things."

"Eh, don't get all existential on me," Lewis groaned.

"I believe I was being metaphys-"

"James." Lewis cut him short. His brain couldn't cope with a discussion on philosophy on top of everything else.

"Sorry, sir." Hathaway was barely managing to suppress a smile.

Lewis had to fight the urge to grab ahold of James and kiss that exasperating smirk and he felt heat flushing his cheeks as the image rose in his mind. What had gotten into him lately? He needed some time to process everything. This hadn't been the relaxing break he had intended it to be when he suggested it.

"We really should…" He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the station. "Innocent's going to have our heads." This time he made it to his feet, although his legs didn't seem altogether capable of keeping him upright. As he was trying to regain his stability, he felt Hathaway rise beside him, then the brush of fingers against the back of his hand.

He had already forgotten how to breathe, so when James bent his head and he felt the soft whisper of his breath caress his ear, Lewis feared he was in danger of heart failure.

"As long as we can continue this conversation later. Sir."

"Aye, I think we better had," Lewis just about managed to choke out when he remembered how to form words.

Hathaway straightened back to his full height and when Lewis, against his better judgment, glanced across at him, the blank mask was back in place on his sergeant's face, but Lewis fancied he caught a playful glint in James' eye when their gazes briefly met.

Fighting the tremble in his knees, Lewis set off, James following faithfully at his heel as always.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yes, I wrote more! I couldn't resist. Besides, what am I supposed to do when confronted with puppy-dog eyes?! (It gets fluffier, sorry (: )**

* * *

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a silence that was almost painful. To a casual observer, Lewis and Hathaway appeared to be two detectives fully absorbed in their task, but the atmosphere within their office was so charged Lewis expected to spontaneously combust at any moment. Both men seemed afraid to speak lest they prompt something that now was not the time, nor here the place, to discuss.

More than once, Lewis caught himself staring at the same piece of paper, reading the same paragraph over and over again. The information refused to penetrate the fog of confusion in his mind. A couple of times he glanced up to find Hathaway staring at him. The lad's face could have been carved from stone for all the expression it held, save for the intensity in his eyes.

Lewis looked away, forcing himself to concentrate on the papers laid in front of him. Unfortunately, nothing there held his attention successfully, and soon his mind was wandering unchecked yet again.

Had James really been suggesting what Lewis thought he had been suggesting? Or had he simply misunderstood the whole conversation? He replayed it in his mind and couldn't see any other way to interpret it. But why was the lad suddenly so interested in starting…something with a tired old bugger like him, and, more to the point, why was Lewis so keen to entertain the idea?

Bloody hell, why did he feel like a love-struck schoolgirl all of a sudden?

He almost leapt a foot off his chair when the hand landed on his shoulder, and he gave another start when he realized it was Hathaway hovering over him.

Mercifully ignoring the panicked look on Lewis' face, the sergeant placed a sheet of paper on top of his own pile.

"We were looking for a link between the suspect and one of the witnesses, sir. I believe I've found one."

Hathaway's tone was all business, but bending down to point at something on the paper brought him into closer proximity to Lewis' ear and Lewis had to remind himself how to breathe. So intent was he on this simple task, he missed most of what Hathaway was explaining.

"Right, yes. Good work, sergeant," he managed to mumble in response.

"Are you two still here?" This time it was Innocent's voice making him jump, the Chief Super framed in the doorway, making a show of looking at her watch.

Christ, were all his colleagues determined to drive him to an early grave?

Thankfully, he recovered a bit faster this time. "James may have just found us the breakthrough we've been looking for."

"Excellent," Innocent said, sounding genuinely pleased by the news. "Is it something that can wait until tomorrow?"

"I don't see why not." They would need to examine this possible link a bit more closely before deciding what action to take with the development.

"Good. Then get yourselves off home, will you?" She gave them both a stern look.

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused in unison.

Before her expression could morph into something resembling a fond smile, Innocent nodded to the men and left.

"That's us told," Lewis said, rising from his chair with some relief.

* * *

Normally, this time of the evening would find Lewis and Hathaway in the pub, sharing a pint, unwinding. This particular evening, however, by unspoken mutual agreement, Lewis drove them straight to his flat. Switching off the engine had a note of irrevocability about it; he could put it off no longer. He was going to have to have that conversation he had promised James.

"C'mon then," he said, finally working up the courage to leave the relative safety of his car, beginning his journey into the unknown. After a moment, he heard the passenger door open and close. Lewis pressed the button on the key fob, and the locks clunked shut. _Okay, here we go_. He led the way indoors.

Hathaway followed silently as Lewis went straight to the kitchen and fished two beers from the fridge, judging that they both needed it. As he passed one to Hathaway, he noticed that the man stood a little too rigidly, that he had the slightly stricken look of a deer caught in headlights.

For all of his teasing earlier that day, the passing hours seemed to have drained some of James' confidence. In contrast, Lewis felt he was coping admirably well now, having had some time for the information to settle. Well, if he didn't count his brush with cardiac arrest earlier. Perhaps being on home turf had given him some courage. Whatever the reasons, somehow their positions had reversed.

Now, looking at his edgy sergeant, doubt began to set in. Was James having second thoughts? Had it all been a wind-up that had taken an unpredicted turn, and now the lad was struggling to decide how to explain himself?

Lewis gestured towards the living room. "Go on and sit down, man. You're making me nervous."

Hathaway made a strangled sound as he loped to the lounge and slumped into one corner of the sofa. Lewis guessed it to have been a failed attempt at a laugh.

As he sank down beside his sergeant, Lewis noted he left more of a gap between them than he usually would. Hathaway didn't seem to notice, engrossed as he was in the label on his beer bottle. The lad's anxious body language was still proving impossible to interpret and Lewis was at a loss for what to say.

Slowly, James lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink. As he lowered it back to his lap, Lewis noticed the minute tremble in the man's hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Friendly concern he could manage.

"Petrified."

Lewis' eyebrows shot up. "I thought _I_…"

Hathaway's head jerked up at the sudden explosion of laughter, eyes searching his governor's face.

"Sorry lad," Lewis said, sobering at the hint of hurt in James' expression. "It's only…I'm the one who's been floundering in the deep end all afternoon. You seemed so…" He waved a hand helplessly. "Certain."

"In the intervening hours, I've convinced myself you've been working on a way to let me down gently."

Lewis couldn't deny the thought had crossed his mind. Maybe it would be for the best to write the while thing off as a moment of madness. But he could no more lie to himself than he could lie to James.

He shook his head. "No. I've been trying to work out what it is you see in a dinosaur like me."

A crease formed between Hathaway's brows. "I believe I've already explained that, sir."

"Hardly." Lewis gave him a baffled grimace. "Something about jigsaw puzzles, wasn't it?" He paused, then looked away as he arrived at the crux of the matter. "I'm afraid I'll just be a disappointment to you." After all, he was…what? Twenty-odd years Hathaway's senior? It was easy to see the attraction James held, but himself? He was far from being in his prime, hardly a prize catch.

"Never, sir." Hathaway's gaze held nothing but honest sincerity when Lewis eventually met it again. Then he saw the hint of relief, as James realized that appeared to be the only obstacle Lewis was envisioning. The same realization surprised Lewis himself.

"Robbie."

"Sorry?"

"Stop calling me 'sir'. Makes me feel like I'm doing something inappropriate."

The corner of James' mouth twitched. "Sorry. Sir."

God, how was the lad able to give that one word so much suggestive depth? Lewis knew he'd never be able to hear Hathaway utter the honorific again without it punching him low in the gut. He gave a groan of resigned despair.

Clearly pleased with the response, a playful light danced in Hathaway's eyes as he set his bottle down on the coffee table. "Would you mind if I did something else that could be considered inappropriate?"

Lewis' mouth opened, but nothing came out. He shook his head, then managed to croak, "Not at all."

A bright, unguarded smile lit James' face, and Lewis had a heartbeat to appreciate just how bonny the expression was on the lad before James closed the gap between them and kissed him.

It was gentle, almost reverential, but even that light touch of James' lips on his was enough to take Lewis' breath away. He closed his eyes as he felt James' fingers caress his cheek, his palm cupping his jaw. There was the slight scratch of stubble, but, oddly, that was the only thing about the kiss that registered in Lewis' brain as remotely alien, and even that didn't bother him.

Almost subconsciously, he reached a hand up and around the back of James' neck, urging him closer. Hathaway complied and, emboldened, deepened the kiss. Lewis parted his lips, opening willingly to James' questing tongue.

When they eventually pulled apart, both men were flushed and breathing hard, trying to draw oxygen back into their lungs. James brushed him thumb lightly across Lewis' lip, and Lewis couldn't take his eyes from the lad's face. He never would have thought that anyone would look at him with such adoration in their expression ever again. That it was his sergeant…Well, that was a bolt from the blue. Not an unwelcome one either, he was surprised to find.

"Robbie."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

In response to Lewis' confused frown, James smiled and pressed his slim frame closer to Lewis, slid his arms around Lewis' waist, and nuzzled into his shoulder, clinging on tightly as if there were a danger Lewis may turn out to be a figment of a dream and could disappear at any moment. Lewis felt strangely humbled, and a little concerned when he realized the body against his was trembling.

"Eh, what's all this about?" Lewis asked, placing a hand on James' back as if to comfort him.

He felt James' shoulders lift in a shrug. "I'm just…happy." The words were muffled by Lewis' shirt, but the contented tone in his voice was clear.

Suddenly, James raised his head and straightened a little so he could see Lewis' face. Lewis saw a flicker of doubt flash across the lad's features.

"Are you?" James asked, and Lewis detected both fear and hope in the question. "Happy?"

Lewis raised a hand and carded it reassuringly through James' short blond hair, leaving it stuck up in haphazard spikes. He tried to suppress the affectionate smile that threatened to erupt, then decided to allow it free reign.

"Aye, pet. I am."

James responded with that bright, happy grin that Lewis was fast coming to adore, and he already knew it was going to leave him breathless every time it lit the lad's face.

Especially if James was planning to always follow it with a kiss.


End file.
